Dad hot

February 23, 2015

Greetings from room temp,

My Dad was a loud sneezer.  He would let out an explosion that sounded like a war whoop followed by some unintelligible Scottish phrase that I won’t try to recreate.  It was a dramatic event that would startle our dog.  And the neighbor’s dog.  Anyone who knew my Dad will testify.

I aim to live an interesting life, one that is rich with experiences and adventures and celebrations.  I’m not out to create lists of accomplishments, for my own sake or others, but I strive to have a full life, with an eye on being at my best in the process. 

I suppose that when my children are recounting my life to others they may point to some success or adventures that I might have deemed significant.  But it occurs to me that I will more likely be remembered for quirks and idiosyncrasies that will make them laugh. 

One day I was in the kitchen with my son Sawyer and he was heating up some food in the microwave.  I commented that it seemed he didn’t wait long for it to get warmed up.

He said, with his mouth full: “I like it heated, but I don’t want it ‘Dad-Hot’.

This is how I will be remembered.  It is my war-whoop sneeze.

This was how I learned of the lens through which my children viewed me.   It was suggested in this conversation that microwave settings should include ‘Hot’ ‘Molten Lava Hot’ ‘Surface of the Sun Hot’ and the life altering, ‘Dad-Hot’.

I recognize that I was being teased for a quirk I have.  Probably one that will eclipse a lifetime of more significant moments.  ‘Dad-hot’ is a humbling reminder of what my real legacy will be. 

I enjoy food.  I have my favorite dishes, from the exotic to the mundane, and I like trying new things to add to the list.  I am not a fussy eater, particularly, but I have some standards.  I enjoy well prepared dishes, in a wide variety of cuisines.

But when food is meant to be cooked, it should be hot.  Not warm or lukewarm or cool.  Hot.  No doubt epicureans are rushing to advise me otherwise, but there are some immutable laws of the universe that should not be tampered with, and ‘hot’ is one of them.

  

Coffee should be hot.  I love coffee, and I lean hard on caffeine daily, but I won’t abide a tepid cup.  Soup should be hot.  I have tried gazpacho and it is not soup, it is watery salsa.  Scrambled eggs, spaghetti sauce, stew, steak: hot, hot, hot and hot.  They call it ‘hot chocolate’ because that’s what God meant for it to be.

Ice cream is cold.  Beer is cold. Salads are cool.  Perhaps pudding could be warm.  But most everything else on the spectrum of cooking beyond pudding should be hot.

I don’t mean scalding: I don’t want to be injured eating oatmeal.  But if it doesn’t steam up my glasses, and make me pause before swallowing the first spoonful, it’s probably not hot enough.

So you have some insight into this quirk which I am certain will be mentioned in my eulogy, some many, many decades in the future.  This whole ‘hot food’ thing is a pretty mundane thing to be remembered for, so I’m working on other idiosyncrasies to add to the list.  Humming, cracking my knuckles, and this new one: sneezing really loud.  My Dad’s legacy should carry on.

My friend Floyd loved to sit in his recliner in his underwear and read the paper until he fell asleep.  It didn’t matter if there was a houseful of people milling about, he would sit there with the breeze blowing on him, in bright colored boxers, his glasses on the end of his nose, dozing before he got to page A-3 of the Free Press.

He would not have minded if that’s one of the ways we thought of him.  It was emblematic of his approach to life.  He was comfortable with himself, with the life he assembled over decades of full days.  He was a compassionate man, a dedicated doctor, a loving parent, a good friend, beloved in his community.  And he loved to eat.  I can see  him even now, bent over a plate of Chinese food, smiling, a little sweat beading on his forehead as he devoured the steaming dish, cooked just the way he liked it and served hot enough to know he was really alive.  Hot. Dad-hot.

Hope this finds you digging in,

David

Copyright © 2015 David Smith